


Movie night

by Willia



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bi!Alistair, Bisexual Alistair, First Times, Kissing, M/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, experimenting, handjobs, self discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 09:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13656078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willia/pseuds/Willia
Summary: Alistair laughed nervously, his hand instinctively going to the back of his neck. “A bit late for experimenting, isn’t it?”Zevran looked genuinely offended, and Alistair would have laughed if he wasn’t so uncomfortable with how personal this was getting.“Late?” echoed Zevran, his voice high pitched. “It is never too late, my friend! No such thing as too late!”





	Movie night

Movie nights had become somewhat of a habit, when they’d all realised that everyone had a favourite movie they wanted the others to see. It almost always ended up happening at Alistair’s, since his flat was by far the more central, and it had the advantage of a big L-shaped sofa that allowed everyone to lounge comfortably.

It began as quite the events, where everyone was tasked to bring a specific item to eat or drink, and they would plan in advance which movie they’d be watching, organising everything on their group chat. And then, people started to show up more and more erratically, as the main movies they wanted to watch had been seen, and everyone’s lives took over. Movie nights would still be announced on the group chat, but Alistair really didn’t have any way of knowing who would show up and with what until the very night of the event.

It didn’t bother him, he was glad to see any of his friends show up with food and drinks, and it worked fine thanks to the very large collection of movies that Netflix held, that never left them lacking something to watch.

That night seemed to be a rather busy time for everyone, because even half an hour past the meeting time, the only person in Alistair’s living room was Zevran. Half laying on one of the sofa’s sides, glass of wine in one hand and remote in the other, he was distractingly scrolling through Netflix’s movie collection.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, as Alistair was coming back from the kitchen with a bowl full of pop-corn, and a glass of wine of his own.

“Found something?” Alistair asked, setting the bowl down on the coffee table and letting himself fall on the other part of the couch.

“Brokeback Mountain!” said Zevran, sounding amused, and Alistair felt his cheeks flush slightly. He had never seen it, but he knew enough to be certain that it wasn’t something he wanted to watch one-on-one with a male friend – let alone  _this_  male friend.

Zevran seemed to have noticed Alistair’s unease, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead he continued: “I once had an argument with a friend over who was the most handsome among the pair...” Zevran’s gaze grew dreamy, the ghost of a smile on his lips “I guess he won in the end, given that I had to silence him to stop his arguing... however pleasant the silencing was.”

“Ah!” said Alistair, amused as always by his friend’s concept of, well, ‘friendship’.

“But tell me, I need to know: who do  _you_  think is the most handsome?” Zevran asked.

Caught off-guard, Alistair sputtered. “I– I thought you knew,” he said as naturally as he could muster, gaze fluttering between Zevran and the view through the window behind him, “I’m straight.”

Zevran chuckled. “Oh, I do not question your orientation, but surely you can recognise an attractive man when you see one!”

“I’ve never really paid attention,” admitted Alistair.

“Come on now, my friend, not even when you were younger, experimenting? You went to college, yes?”

“I did–I mean, I didn’t,” stuttered Alistair. “What I’m trying to say is, I did go to college, but I didn’t....experiment.”

“Ah, I see. What a shame,” said Zevran, swirling his wine around. “But you are still a handsome man, Alistair, you could have dozens of men at your feet if you wished it so.”

Alistair laughed nervously, his hand instinctively going to the back of his neck. He wondered briefly how they ended up in this conversation. “A bit late for experimenting, isn’t it?”

Zevran looked genuinely offended, and Alistair would have laughed if he wasn’t so uncomfortable with how personal this was getting.

“Late?” echoed Zevran, his voice high pitched. “It is never too late, my friend! No such thing as too late!”

“I don’t know,” mumbled Alistair, reaching for the pop-corn and shoving a handful in his mouth. “By now I’d have realised if I was into men, right?”

Zevran considered for a few seconds, squinting at his friend.

“That is not how I see it,” he finally said.

“How do you see it?”

“Bodies are... bodies. Sex is sex. If it is done with proper communication, it is almost always good.”

“Hmm,” said Alistair. “I think I see your point.”

“I believe that many people who call themselves straight are just... censoring their own desires.”

Alistair laughed at that: “Am I censoring my own desires?”

“Perhaps,” Zevran said, looking back at him with a very serious face. “How would you know?”

“How would  _you_  know?” Alistair shot back, still cackling.

“The concept of two men together makes you nervous,” Zevran said flatly.

“Excuse me?”

Alistair wasn’t laughing anymore.

“Now, that only happens in two situations, in my experience: either the person is homophobic, which I doubt you are, or they are–“

“Are you about to say ‘censoring their own desires’?” cut Alistair, a nervous chuckle making his voice shudder.

“Something like that,” admitted Zevran, tilting his head.

“Hang on, are you saying I’m secretly gay?” asked Alistair, trying to deflect the unease he was feeling.

“I am not saying you are secretly anything, my dear Alistair,” Zevran said with a laugh, and Alistair sensed the tension in his shoulders ease a bit, until Zevran added: “I am merely stating that you cannot possibly know until you’ve tried.”

Zevran punctuated his point by shrugging, and grabbing a few pop-corns.

Alistair stared at him, unsure of what was happening. “What are you trying to do?” he asked, slowly, squinting suspiciously as he watched Zevran put the pop-corns in his mouth.

Zevran laughed at that, his head thrown back and eyes closed, wrinkles forming on the corners of his eyelids. “Contrary to what you seem to believe, I do not always have an evil plan at work, my dear Alistair. But if you feel threatened by my suggesting of you being interested in men, I would advise some self reflection...”

Alistair whimpered. He was fairly certain that was the only response he could formulate right now.

Zevran had always talked very freely about sex, and Alistair had got accustomed to it after a while; but they’d never actually chatted about Alistair’s sex life, much less something as personal as his sexual orientation.

Alistair never really thought of his orientation, if he had to be honest. It’s never something that crossed his mind, so he always assumed he was straight. And he probably was. Yeah, he probably was. He couldn’t have reached his age without noticing something like that.

But then again... Well, while he did not agree with Zevran’s idea of bodies just being bodies, while he did feel differently when he thought of a woman’s body compared to a man’s body, he also knew that he’d never been  _disgusted_  by the idea of touching a man’s body... Which he somehow felt he should be?

He groaned out loud.

“What is it, my friend?” asked Zevran before taking a gulp of wine.

“This... All of this... It doesn’t make any sense.”

Zevran chuckled, this happy, low-pitched sound that Alistair had become so familiar with over the years.

“Would you like my advice?”

“More?” Alistair asked, sounding more reluctant than intended.

“Worry not about words. Follow your instincts, my friend. If your instincts tell you not to knock boots with other men, do not go against them. But if you find curiosity in the idea, then perhaps you should trust your gut.” He took another sip of wine, and added, “Nothing has to be serious if you don’t want it to be. Sex is... fun, it should always be fun.”

Alistair was sitting on the edge of the sofa now, his forearms resting on his thighs, fingers interlaced and gaze fixed into space. His face felt tense. After a pause, Zevran leaned forward and began talking again, more softly.

“You do not need to question anything about yourself. This is about your gut, yes?”

Alistair nodded, slowly, still staring at an invisible point near the bowl of popcorn.

“How did you know you were– you– you liked men?”

Zevran chuckled again, and said: “I like everyone, my friend, you must have noticed. Well, I do not care for people’s gender as long as I think they are pretty, that would be more true.”

“But how did you know?”

Zevran thought for a second, and then: “I knew I liked kissing boys and girls alike.”

Alistair nodded. A moment passed, and Zevran leaned back on his part of the sofa. He looked so relaxed, so open, the exact opposite of the tension that Alistair felt in his every muscle. He swallowed, squinting, considering.

“Zevran?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I kiss you?” Alistair asked, his mouth running faster than his brain. “I– I mean– just to know, because you just said– what you said about kissing boys, and I’ve never exactly– I’ve never kissed a boy. You know. And you’re my friend– does that make it weirder?– but you’re my friend, and I know you like men, so I thought maybe it would be the best option to try and kiss you, since–”

His voice died out, and he realised he had slowly sunk his head down into his hands as he spoke, and he now had his fingertips pressed on either side of his forehead, elbows on his knees. He was staring at the greyish rug between his feet, face burning, and was wondering if there was any chance that he’d dreamt the entire conversation, and he hadn’t actually said what he’d just said.

Zevran, thankfully, was completely hidden from view by Alistair’s right palm. He’d almost managed to convince himself that Zevran was not, in fact, in his flat, when he heard him cackling loudly.

When Alistair managed to detach his head from his hands, he saw Zevran laughing with his entire body, arms wrapped around his own stomach and legs helplessly lifting against his abdomen.

It wasn’t a mocking laugh – Alistair had learnt to recognise the sound of these – no, this was a genuinely delighted laugh, and Alistair couldn’t keep from chuckling as well. If he had one quality, it was self deprecating humour. As long as it made his friends laugh, he was okay with making a fool out of himself.

He grabbed his wine glass from the table, shaking his head and smiling, and painfully aware of how red his face must have been by this point. He had learnt a long time ago that there wasn’t much he could do about a blush, apart from waiting it out.

He lifted his glass in Zevran’s direction, exclaiming “cheers!”, and took a big gulp as Zevran kept roaring with laughter, looking at him while wiping a few tears from under his eyes.

“You have– you have quite the flirting skills, my friend,” Zevran finally said when he managed to catch his breath.

“I certainly try,” answered Alistair with a little bow of the head. “More wine?”

“Please,” said Zevran, quickly, before he started laughing again, clutching at his abdomen.

Alistair poured some more of the red wine into his friend’s glass, and then asked, “does it hurt?”

Zevran raised an eyebrow, questioning.

“Your belly, does it hurt?”

“It does,” Zevran said, smiling and wincing at the same time.

“Good. That’ll teach you to reject me so mercilessly.”

“Ah!” said Zevran, a single sound, not quite a laugh, not quite a word either. “I am terribly sorry to have wounded your manly pride, your highness”

Alistair hmphed, But he knew he was in trouble when he caught Zevran’s sly smile.

“Would a kiss make it better?” he asked, which such well acted innocence that Alistair might have believed it, if he didn’t know him any better.

“Sod off,” he said instead, but there was a smile on his lips. He stood up. “I’ll check on the pizzas.”

The kitchen was slightly illuminated from the light pouring from the living room, so Alistair didn’t bother to turn on the ceiling lamp.

 _Now that’s something I’m not gonna live down_ , he thought as he opened the oven. Even if Zevran miraculously shut his mouth about the event, its memory would be the kind to come and haunt him as he’d try to fall asleep for years to come.

Satisfied by the pizza’s cooking, he closed the oven and put away the thick gloves. Bracing both his hands on the counter in front of him, he paused, and let his head fall.

“‘Can I kiss you?’ What the fuck, Alistair,” he muttered to himself.

He groaned, burying his face in his palm. He wasn’t certain how he always ended up in those situations. At least it happened with Zevran, who might tease him about it for a while, but whom Alistair knew would stop immediately if he was told it made its target feel uncomfortable.

That’s something that Alistair hadn’t understood about him, at first; when he’d first entered their friend group he had immediately jumped into a mix of intense teasing and constant flirting, which had greatly confused Alistair. But, as the weeks passed, he’d started to get it: as much as Zevran liked both of these things – teasing and flirting – he was entirely aware that it might make the people around him uncomfortable; one only had to tell him once, firmly, that they didn’t like a certain behaviour or topic, and Zevran would drop it right away, no questions asked.

It was really quite a great method, Alistair had realised when he’d understood. Zevran could keep on talking the ways that he found entertaining, but he’d do it without any risk of actually pushing people away.

But still. Not a reason to just blurt out something that stupid to him.

What the hell was he even expecting?

“Would you still like to kiss me?”

Alistair jumped, his hands leaving the counter in a swift movement as he turned to face the voice.

Zevran was standing in the doorway a few steps away, merely a silhouette against the warm light pouring from the living room.

“Excuse me?” asked Alistair, still not quite relaxing.

“You were serious, when you talked about kissing me, were you not? The fumble that followed was truly quite funny, that is for sure, but you  _were_  serious?”

Once again, Zevran, his hands shoved carelessly into his jeans pockets, looked very casual while talking about such sensitive topics; which only highlighted Alistair’s unease, who cleared his throat and leaned somewhat clumsily against the stone counter.

“I– I guess I was, yes.”

“So,” Zevran bent forward ever so slightly, his head tilted to the side, “would you still like to kiss me?”

Alistair was certain his tongue had never been so dry. For a moment he stayed there, mouth open, trying to articulate words that wouldn’t come.

When his voice did work again, it startled even himself.

“I think so?”

“Good enough for me!” said Zevran, laughing, before stepping forward. Alistair watched him approach in a haze, the only thing still clear being his heartbeat, heavy in his ears and chest.

But before Zevran had even reached him, a wave of anxiety crashed into him. He hadn’t kissed anyone in months. What if he’d forgotten. What if he did it wrong. With Zevran, of all judges, who probably kissed dozens of different people every month. What if kissing him would make him realise how boring he actually was?  _Oh, Maker_. Zevran would never want to hang out again.

And then, Zevran did reach his friend. He braced his hands on the counter behind Alistair, essentially trapping him against his body – though not actually touching him – and stared up at him.

And that’s when he noticed that Alistair had completely frozen. He instantly pulled back, one quick step backwards, holding his two hands palms forward at chest level.

Alistair exhaled a shaky breath.

“Tell me,” said Zevran, in a tone that landed right between a request and an order.

When he spoke, Alistair’s voice was small: “Are you going to stop being my friend?” he asked.

It was a stupid question, so stupid, he knew it, but all its potential answers tugged at his gut.

Zevran chuckled, softer than he’d had all night, and put his right hand over his heart. “Let it be known that Zevran never lets a friend down after a kiss.”

“That’s good to know... I guess,” Alistair said with amusement, but the tension in his body did ease considerably.

Carefully looking at his friend for any sign of hesitation, Zevran slowly moved forward again, until his palms were braced against the counter once again.

“You do know that you can push me away at any moment, do you not?” he asked, and Alistair shivered upon feeling his breath on his lips.

“I do,” he said, and nodded slightly.

Zevran’s lips were so close now, just slightly lower than Alistair’s, and they were curled into a smirk. After a moment, he realised that Zevran would not move any further until he himself did. He licked his lips, and Zevran’s smirk grew wider.

And then he bent down, without even fully realising he was doing it, and their lips met.

 _Maker_ , he’d forgotten how good this felt. Nerves lit up in his lips, sending shivers of electricity in his entire body, a warmth that seemed to radiate through all of him; and this was only a chaste, curious kiss on the lips.

Yet, he was a little breathless when he pulled back, his gaze flickering between Zevran’s eyes.

“So?” Zevran asked, a smirk still present in his voice.

Alistair swallowed. “That was– good,” he whispered. “Shit, does that mean I was bi this entire time?”

“As I said, my friend, the words do not matter for now!” He stopped, considering, before continuing. “Coming to terms with who you are, no matter your identity, can be a terrifying prospect. But as for the words– the words come after, yes?

Alistair nodded.

“Now what?”

Zevran lifted an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

“Is that a trick question?” asked Alistair, his voice high-pitched.

“No, my friend, it isn’t,” laughed Zevran. “I mean it, what do you think?”

“I– I...”

Alistair frowned. His gaze fluttered to Zevran’s lips again, and he suddenly found himself very aware of Zevran’s arms still surrounding him, close but not touching.

“I think I’d like to kiss you again,” he breathed out, so soft he was surprised Zevran even heard him.

This time, it’s Zevran who reached out, pushing on his feet until he was on his tiptoes, and he was smiling as their lips met again. They kissed, slow and curious, and Alistair suddenly felt the need to have Zevran closer to him, so he lifted his hand to the other man’s head, resting his thumb on his cheek and letting the rest of it tangle in his blond hair.

Zevran hummed in appreciation at that, and his arms finally wrapped around Alistair, his hands resting, flat and reassuring, warm on his back.

In many ways, kissing Zevran was a lot like kissing a woman, Alistair thought. After all, he had long hair and barely any stubble. The one thing that gave it away was when Zevran moaned in the kiss, low-pitched and  _definitely_  masculine, and Alistair broke the embrace, pushing away the other man’s face, softly but quickly.

“Andraste, I’m– I’m sorry.”

“Was that too much?” enquired Zevran, detaching a hand from Alistair’s back to arrange a stray strand of hair, and wipe at his lips from the tip of his thumb with a smile.

“No, it’s– sorry, can you move?”

“Of course,” said Zevran, detaching his other hand from Alistair’s body and stepping back.

Alistair took a long breath out, and back in, his body leaning forward.

“It’s a lot to take in,” he finally said when he looked back up, finding Zevran leaning against the wall facing him, arms crossed. “It’s just– all of this. It’s a lot.”

“I believe you, my dear Alistair, and I do not wish to make you uncomfortable,” said Zevran, bowing his head once in understanding.

“It was good though,” Alistair said, quickly, feeling his cheeks heat up, “I liked it.”

Zevran laughed – was there any situation he didn’t find funny? “What do you wish to do?”

“I think I’d like to watch that movie now– not Brokeback Mountain,  _a_  movie, you know, like we’d planned.”

“Let us find something, then!”

And then Zevran was gone as quickly as he’d arrived, in a shuffle of clothing, leaving Alistair red-cheeked and certainly a bit confused.

 

They ended up on a movie called The Crow, about some guy returning from the grave to avenge his own death, which had Zevran sitting on the edge of the sofa cheering for the antihero.

Alistair liked movies about assassins, usually, promise, but he found his attention regularly drifting, and his gaze landing on his friend far too often.

It’s not that he’d suddenly found himself irresistibly attracted to men – or even Zevran for that matter – it’s just that the conversations (and, well, the kisses) that they’d shared had shaken a lot of things that he believed about himself. And he was... curious. He had so many questions floating in his mind that it made him almost dizzy. Surely sleeping with another man would be very different from his experience with women. They had rougher edges, and more hair, and then, well, there was the matter of dicks.

Not that Alistair wasn’t familiar with dicks. He  _had_  a dick, thank you very much. But that’s the thing, isn’t it, how do you work around two of them?

Alistair knew a bit about sex between two men,  _in theory_ , but he’d never considered it for himself. That part was new. So instead of paying attention to the movie, he spent most of it staring blankly at the screen, picturing himself in various scenarios that involved significantly more penises than his usual wandering thoughts.

And stealing glances at Zevran.

Who, like the gentleman that he is, didn’t comment on it.

That is, until the movie ended; at which point he turned to Alistair, smirking, and asked in his best innocent voice, “Something on your mind?”

Alistair blushed significantly at that, convinced that Zevran knew exactly  _what was on his mind_ , and he squeezed harder the pillow that he was holding against him.

“No!” he said defensively, his voice too high-pitched to be sharing any truth. “Maybe.”

He breathed in.

“You got me curious about all of this, now!” he said accusingly. “It’s like you’ve opened a door to a room I didn’t know was there, and now I  _have_  to know about what’s in there!”

Zevran snorted: “I think a more accurate description for this door I apparently opened would be that it belongs to a closet.”

“You didn’t– did you just– how dare you.”

Zevran cackled, and Alistair would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit amused. Alarmed at the amount of new information about himself he needed to process, but still amused at the fun his friend seemed to be having.

But Zevran calmed down soon enough and, going from laughing to serious at a dizzying pace, he took a sip of wine and asked:

“Tell me, would you like to try anything?”

“What, now?” Alistair choked on a high-pitched sound. Very manly. Great.

Zevran only quirked an eyebrow at this, staring unblinkingly back at him.

The suggestion hung in the air, right there, between the two of them, for a few seconds that stretched, until Alistair finally said, softly:

“I think so.”

He’d whispered it, just as though he was speaking a secret, because that entire situation felt so forbidden. Zevran was grinning, and Alistair felt his pulse quicken. He swallowed, hard.

* * *

It wasn’t exactly the first time Zevran had introduced someone to new horizons when it came to sex; and experience had taught him that it always turned out better for everyone if he took the lead. And so he rose to his feet, slowly, staring back at Alistair, and started making his way towards him.

Yet another thing experience had taught him, is that if the person couldn’t hold his gaze, they certainly weren’t ready for anything more.

But Alistair held on. His knuckles going white against the stem of his glass, and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, but he held Zevran’s gaze. He shivered when the other man’s hand planted itself right next to his head, on the sofa’s back, but the reaction was soon gone when Zevran kissed him, quick and hot and wet, all while grabbing the glass from his fingers. He pushed himself back and turned towards the coffee table, putting the half full glass next to the empty bowl of popcorn.

Zevran leaned in to kiss him again, stabilising himself with a hand and a knee pushing against the sofa; and, without breaking the embrace, he moved Alistair until he was laying on his back, slipping the pillow he’d been holding under his head.

His arms were shaking with the effort required to keep his own body up, but he knew that pressing himself to Alistair right now would be the wrong move. So he kept on kissing him almost lazily, until he found the signal he was waiting for: Alistair’s hand raising to his side and coming to rest in the small of his back, not quite pulling so much as keeping him there.

Only then did Zevran let himself lower his body against Alistair’s, slowly, until they were completely flush– though he didn’t let his crotch come too close to Alistair quite yet. Zevran loved this moment, he always had, feeling someone’s entire body against his, warm and breathing hard, all the muscles flexed in expectation, desire transpiring through every glide of a hand.

Alistair moaned, making Zevran smile against his mouth. He let a hand slide from Alistair’s cheek to his neck, his shoulder, stopping it right over his heart. It was beating hard. Harder than most people Zevran had been with.

“Are you feeling okay?” he murmured, not really moving away from the kiss.

Alistair nodded.

“Can I remove your shirt?” Zevran then asked, fingernails tangling in the fabric in a soft scraping sound.

Alistair nodded again, mouth half open and pupils blown wide, and he moved his upper body to help Zevran pull the jumper off his torso. He then instinctively brought his hands to Zevran’s hips, who was now essentially straddling him just above his own hips, holding himself up so as not to hurt him, and Zevran grinned at him before removing his own shirt.

When he moved back down against Alistair he finally aligned himself low enough so that their hips were flush; and a moan escaped both of them when their cocks rubbed through the layers of underwear and jeans. Alistair blinked, quickly, and Zevran waited for him to talk.

“Fuck that– that’s weird,” he said, eyes fluttering between Zevran’s eyes and his mouth.

“Good weird?”

“New,” Alistair corrected.

Zevran nodded, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, and then he slowly brought a hand down to Alistair’s chest, laying it finger by finger, until his entire hand was splayed upon Alistair’s heart. They both stared at it, Alistair’s breath hitching.

“I don’t– I don’t have any condoms,” he realised in a whisper.

“I do not believe you are quite ready for anything that involves condoms,” Zevran answered, quirking an eyebrow. He saw a genuine expression of relief go through his friend’s face, and he added: “You trust me, yes? And I trust you to tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable, my friend.”

“Okay.”

Zevran‘s eyes lit up again, as he leaned back down to kiss Alistair’s swollen lips. Meanwhile, he let his hand slide down, slowly, over ribs, warm stomach, all the way to the rough fabric of jeans. He stopped for a second, until he felt Alistair’s hand spasm against the bare skin of his back. He smiled against the kiss, hand going even lower, between them, over Alistair’s jeans. He grabbed.

Alistair gasped. His body tensed for a second, as he tried to find his breath, before it relaxed all at once, mouth opening on its own and head lolling backwards, throat exposed and pulse beating hard. Zevran leaned in, kissing it, eliciting the loveliest of sounds from deep in Alistair’s lungs. He licked a long strip along his neck, all the way to his ear, which he bit softly through his lips.

Alistair shivered.

“You are marvellously responsive, my dear,” Zevran murmured against his ear as he rubbed his hand along Alistair’s cock through his trousers.

Alistair moaned at that, cheeks flushing as he turned his head away from Zevran, exposing his throat a bit more.

“Oh, you like that do you?” he asked with a chuckle, biting the skin of his neck softly.

According to the noise Alistair made in response, he did like that. The hand that rested on the sofa until now came to tangle in Zevran’s hair, tugging at it, and Zevran growled at the tingling.

“S-Sorry,” Alistair said, letting go in an instant.

“I would be terribly offended if you stopped doing exactly what you were doing,” Zevran said, voice low-pitched and balancing between amusement and threat.

The hand returned to his hair. Satisfied, Zevran went back to licking, kissing a path across Alistair’s throat and back, following the moans and pull in his hair to find the most sensitive spots.

Soon, Alistair was shaking, and the tug on his hair was getting stronger by the second. Zevran smiled, licking one last long stripe before he looked back up at Alistair.

“Yes?” he asked, using that innocent voice that he knew didn’t fool any of his friends anymore.

“Zevran– Andraste– I need more.”

“Is that so?”

Zevran moved his hand against the length of him through his jeans again, and Alistair growled in frustration.

“For fuck’s sake– Zevran!”

“Alright, alright,” he said, chuckling. “You are lucky I’m in no mood to tease.”

“THAT wasn’t teasing?” Alistair asked, outrage piercing through his trembling voice.

“Oh no, that was....” he paused, considering. “ _Antipasto_. Just a taste.”

“I hate you.”

“Such terrible words, why must I suffer this way?”

Alistair only groaned, and Zevran was chuckling as he let his hand slide back up, fingers locking around Alistair’s jeans button.

Alistair stopped groaning when he heard the ruffle of his jeans falling open, and his head snapped downwards, where Zevran’s hand was now sliding the zipper down. Slowly. He looked as though he was about to complaing about being teased again, when his gaze met Zevran’s. It then seemed to hit him that Zevran was not, in fact, doing this to annoy him, but rather to make sure that he was okay with everything that was happening.

“I’m alright,” he said, smoothing a hand in Zevran’s hair, cupping the back of his skull. “This is alright– this is good.”

Zevran nodded slightly, and slipped his fingernails under the elastic of Alistair’s boxers. He slowly pushed them downwards, resuming the kissing, until he was able to lock his fingers around Alistair’s cock. Which had just about as much effect as Zevran had hoped: Alistair groaned in his mouth, his hips twitching upwards helplessly.

Zevran began stroking, ripping a few moans from Alistair’s mouth that he swallowed as they came.

“Do the same for me?” asked Zevran. “You don’t have to.”

Alistair nodded, his face so hot Zevran could feel the warmth radiate from it, and he detached his hand from Zevran’s back. He paused at his jeans, just for a second, not enough for it to be a hesitation, and he opened them in one swift movement. He paused a second time when Zevran’s cock appeared, freed with his help. He stared at it, breathing hard, and Zevran cupped his chin firmly with the hand that was not long ago deep in his boxers– a fact that seemed to make Alistair's blush deepens.

“Are you alright?” Zevran asked.

“I am,” Alistair answered in a surprisingly stable voice. “I am, I just... need to get used to this.”

“This being my cock.”

“This being your cock.”

Zevran leaned in to kiss him, still holding Alistair’s chin between his fingers. After a while he let himself drift to his ear, and asked in a low voice:

“May I start touching you again?”

“Please,” begged Alistair.

And Zevran did exactly as promised. This time he pushed down the jeans and boxers, freeing Alistair’s cock and running the pad of his thumb along the tip, which made Alistair’s breath hitch in response. Shifting to make sure his own cock wasn’t going to touch Alistair, he curved his back somewhat awkwardly to bend and kiss him again.

And even though Zevran couldn’t quite feel the reactions of Alistair’s body, twisted in this uncomfortable position, he could hear every single sound that escaped him. Gasps when he circled the head. Moans on down strokes. And that wonderful strangled noise whenever he stopped at the top, squeezing slightly.

And then Zevran felt a hand on his side again, sliding down, around his ass and slowly coming back to the front. Grabbing. Tentatively. Calloused palm against his cock, careful fingers wrapped around.

A strangled noise escaped Zevran’s throat, half-way between a moan and a sob. His arms shook, and he knew he couldn’t hold himself up like that for much longer, so he let himself lay back down against Alistair, and they both exhaled sharply when their bodies were flush again.

“S’good,” murmured Alistair in Zevran’s ear, as he synchronised their rhythms. “So good.”

Zevran felt their hearts thump loudly between their two chests, and he left Alistair’s lips to drag his own across his throat, relishing in the flush that spread on the thin skin.

The rhythm of Alistair’s hand on him intensified.

“Braska,” he said in a weak voice, letting his head fall in the crook of Alistair’s neck.

* * *

“I’m not gonna last long,” Alistair warned in a breath.

“Me neither,” answered Zevran, all wit gone from his tone.

For a blissed moment there was just the sound of hard breathing and kissing, and then Alistair felt the tight coil of pleasure in his belly snap. His body spasmed as a groan escaped his throat, and he was vaguely aware of Zevran taking over when his hand slid, finishing himself off. He felt a second wave of warm cum hit his stomach, seconds before Zevran fell unceremoniously against him, his body landing between Alistair’s and the back of the sofa.

When the world came back in focus for Alistair, he realised Zevran was chuckling. Of course he was.

“You are...quite wonderful, my dear Alistair.”

Alistair smoothed his hand in Zevran’s hair, not able to talk quite yet. The other man hummed, breathing out deeply and moving his face against Alistair’s neck.

“That was– that was,” Alistair finally said, voice trembling. “Fuck.”

“Indeed." Zevran pushed himself up, legs shaking, and reached for the box of tissues on the table. Alistair let his eyes flutter shut as Zevran cleaned them up, in slow silent movements. He left his sides a little while later, coming back with tissues soaked in warm water, and smoothed those down Alistair’s stomach as well.

When he was done he planted a quick kiss right there, on Alistair’s belly, who opened his eyes and looked back at him. Alistair realised with some level of embarrassment that he was the only one still exposed, and tucked himself back in his boxers.

“Water?” offered Zevran.

Alistair grunted affirmatively, only now realising just how dry his throat was. By the time Zevran came back with two glasses he was sitting again, leaning forward with one forearm on his thigh, the other hand pushing his damp hair back. He took one of the glasses with a grateful nod, and their gazes locked as they drank.

“So–" said Alistair, fidgeting with the rim of his glass. “That was...fun.”

Zevran grabbed his empty glass, and said on a tone that Alistair couldn’t quite place, “Agreed. We should do this again, yes?”

“Sure,” Alistair squeaked, and although Zevran had almost turned around, he could swear he saw a grin spread on his face. “I love movie nights,” he added, and felt his cheeks warm up when Zevran cackled from the kitchen.

“Me too, my dear Alistair, me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was my first attempt at a smut, I hope it was alright!...  
> (And yep, antipasto is Italian and not Spanish, but I couldn't find a closer match... I did get into a giggling fit imagining Zevran compare kissing to Tapas, and then I decided against using that word.)
> 
> Come chat on [Tumblr](https://stormthedarkcity.tumblr.com/)!


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